Shiv Shank
by Hara Kyome
Summary: Dexter can't bring himself to kill Brian. Instead, he takes him in. With the police hot on his brother's trail and his own innocence brought into question, what is poor, dazed Dexter to do with his new roommate? AU. Bloody, brotherly bonding.
1. Prologue

_My new obsession _Dexter_ presents _Shiv Shank_. Brian was the main reason I kept to it. Dexter's the second reason. _

_Dislaimer: Don't own it. Jeff Lindsay does. _

* * *

Shiv Shank Prologue

I have my forehead pressed to his. A last gesture of endearment for Barely Brain dead Brian. His breathing is calm despite that he is strapped to a table in Saran wrap and duct tap, very aware that he is mere moments from death. If it was anyone else but my brother, I would find a bit of ironic humor with the situation. With the fact that he is about to be killed on the very same table that those five hookers - that he'd playfully sliced and diced into little chopped up pieces - had. Since it is in fact my newly discovered sibling strapped down in front of me, I feel nothing of the sort. Instead, I feel an odd rising sense of fear. Fear of _what_ I did not know. It is unusual for me to feel anything in the first place, being the cold, emotionless monster that I am. And yet...

_"I know what you've been going through all these years. The isolation, the otherness, the hunger that's never satisfied",_ he'd said, eyes boring into my nonexistent soul. _"But you're not alone anymore, Dexter. You can be yourself. With me. __Your real, genuine self."_

My real, genuine self.

Only in the tantalizing, howling moonlit night did I let my Dark Passenger roam free, tearing its claws into monsters not unlike myself, while on the surface I maintained a flawless camouflage; devoted boyfriend to Rita, doting big brother to Deborah, and average blood spatter analyst at Miami Dade Police Department. I fancied myself a master of disguise. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

But Brian, Big Brother Brian, had shaken my perfect life at its roots the moment he had barged his way in with his bloodless bodies and his Barbie dolls. When he had stepped out of our childhood home with that smile of a predator that had finally cornered its prey. I had felt pure, utter shock for the first time in my life. It was not fascination as when he had turned my world upside down with his beautiful, pallid corpses. Nor was it horror at the fact that Harry had lied to me about having a brother in the first place.

No, it was just authentic, jaw-dropping awe. Awe caused by the fact that I had a brother. A real, flesh and blood sibling. Standing only a few feet away. And he was just like me. The thought made me shiver.

Now here he is, bound up like a package about to be opened. Just like so many of my other victims. But he is different. He is not a trophy or an animal to be slaughtered. He is kin. He is my brother.

The fear constricts me; rising higher.

"You're the only one I ever wanted to set free." I whisper to him. I speak only the truth. It's the least I can give him.

"You're the one that needs setting free, little brother." He responds and I can hear rare desperation in his voice. "Your life is a lie."

My handle on the knife is firm, but the fear is swelling inside me now.

He sighs, resigned. "Do it then, Dexter." His words are dipped with disappointment and defeat. "Do it so you can go back to your fake, _perfect_ life."

Though his words hurt, the Code of Harry grips me. I have to do this. I _have _to. For Harry. For Deb.

"I'm sorry." And I truly am.

I raise the knife, ready to strike. The blade is inches from his throat and about to slice.

The fear is growing stronger and stronger.

I look into his eyes; acceptance and bitterness mixed into one.

My resolve breaks.

I drop the knife and it clatters to the floor. I raise my head and observe surprise, relief, and something I can't place wave through his expression.

"I can't do it." My voice nearly breaks with emotion that I am not used to feeling.

He looks up at me with slight confusion. A silent '_Why?' _lingers in the air.

"You're my brother." As if that is explanation enough.

It seems it is because he nods, the daze not quite leaving his eyes. It reminds me of the look he gave me when I accepted his brotherhood for the first time. The same look of consolation. It gives me consolation as well.

It feels as if a great weight has been removed from my shoulders. I breathe out a long held in sigh.

There only lay one unsolved question.

What now?

* * *

_I've pretty watched most of the series, but the 1st season always stuck with me. Brian was the best antagonist this series ever had and I hated to see him die, so I brought him back to life via fan fiction. __I always preferred the ending to ____the books over the series cause he didn't die in the end. The series is still good, but it wasn't quite the same after he died._

_ I may continue this but it depends on the outcome. _

_R&R, please! Thanks!_


	2. Deja vu

_Heres chapter one. I wrote it close to the same time I wrote the prologue, so it wasn't hard to finish it up. It has a few concepts of the book, but it _

_mainly sticks to the series. Enjoy!_

* * *

Shiv Shank

Chapter 1: Déjà vu

An awkward silence hung in the air of the living room. The room was dim, the only illumination spilling in that of the beautiful, fat, hungry moon that drew low just outside the window. The tension was thick, a smog emanating from the uneasiness that I was feeling by my brother's mere presence in my immediate vicinity. Hating every second of it, I lingered back near the kitchen. Specifically, where I knew the knives were located. Just in case my brother was feeling particularly vengeful after the attempt on his life. He had never willfully harmed me, but he was an unpredictable sort of monster. It was what made him so hard for the Miami Metro Police Department to track down after all. And, as Harry taught me, it never hurts to be careful.

I wondered briefly what could have possessed me to bring him back to my apartment of all places. My precious place of operation. My secret hideaway. Though its not as if he hasn't broken in here before. He knows my home almost as well as he knows me. He's probably examined this room down to its very dust particles. That fact should have disturbed me, but it didn't. Its like when I first find his little gift in my freezer. The fact that he knew me better than I knew myself. There was odd sort of thrill in it that I reveled in.

The Ice Truck Killer himself had taken to rummaging through my slide collection, making himself at home on my couch. He made a point to examine each thoroughly, smirk, and look sideways at me before putting them back. It unnerved me in a way that only Brian could. Even as Rudy, he had that supernatural ability to get under my skin. From the moment we met there was a touch of familiarity. That smile stretched across his face as if he had found the secret to immortality in my eyes and a desperate embrace that whispered so many secrets that were beyond my understanding. It is only now, with a our blood ties revealed, that the meaning of these gestures has been unveiled to me. I always knew there was something about him. Like a killer instinct. Much in the same way Doakes felt about me, but not quite to the same fanatical degree. Despite his strange behavior, I had found a kindred spirit in Rudy Cooper, but I suppose he had always been a kindred spirit I just didn't realize how alike we were until he unmasked himself to me.

As he analyzed my trophies to his heart's content, I took the time to examine him. Thankfully he didn't notice, too caught up in his favorite pastime of going through my things. I mulled over his appearance, not having had the chance to do so during recent events. I had more than a few opportunities to look him over before, but I had never felt the same fascination with him as I did now. I had never felt the same urgent desire to dissect the mind of the man who had led me on this wild, bloody trip down memory lane before I knew who he really was. He had our father's hair from what I've seen in the few photos Joe Driscoll had kept of himself. As I looked at his grinning expression, I realized he strongly resembled our mother more than our father, going from the pictures of her death in the newspaper article I found. Just as I held more of a resemblance to our dearly, departed father. His features were sharper and angular than my thickset, muscular ones. His frame was ganglier than mine, but that didn't fool me. He had shown on more than one occasion that he was fully capable of strangling his victims to death on muscle power alone. I was subjected to that same chokehold when I tried to stop him from killing Deborah. He had easily overpowered me and left me staggering at the end of it.

This was another reminder that our methods were very different. While he preferred strangulation; I chose heavy sedation. He favored the limelight; I took to hiding in the dark. While he was not picky in his victims as long as they were female and favorably hookers, I was more fastidious in my choices, always planning and researching them beforehand until the Code of Harry deemed them worthy of my knife. Brothers by blood and monsters alike, but two very different people with very different backgrounds. I never realized how our upbringings would cut such a large chasm between us. It showed just how little I knew about my brother and that fact made me all the more curious.

"You're going to bore a hole through my skull if you keep staring, little brother."

He raised an eyebrow at me, his lip curled upwards with amusement.

I blinked. I hadn't realized I had been. I was so caught up with my idiotic self reflection that I hadn't noticed he'd put back the slides in their rightful place in the cooler and had been staring back at me for a full five minutes.

"Sorry." My voice was low, disconcerted about being caught off guard.

He gave me that broad, brotherly smile of his. The kind he gave me when we were just children back in that shipping container filled with so much_ blood_.

"_Its okay, Dexter. Don't cry. Everything's going to be okay." _

I blinked. The memory left me and I found myself staring across at my softly smiling big brother.

His face was bright with complete understanding. "How many times do I have to tell you, Dexter? You never need to apologize to me. Not for who you are or anything you do."

I looked at him blankly, not really knowing what to say to that. It was the second time he had spoken those words and it still shook me how no one had ever been so understanding of me before. Not Rita. Not Deb.

Not even Harry.

"So." I really didn't know what to say. "What-"

"-now?" He answered for me, a mischievous light in his eyes.

As always, our minds were in sync.

"The police are still after you." I said, pointing out the obvious. "If you're going to disappear, you should probably stay somewhere safe. Somewhere they wouldn't expect you to be."

He gave me an innocent grin. "Like here?"

"Yeah, like-" I stopped and stared at him. _"_What?"

One of his canines shown as a smile split across his face.

"Think about it, baby brother. This could be a bonding experience." His eyes were alight with something that was half amused, half deadly serious. "Two reunited brothers making up for lost time."

I didn't answer. My eyes pinned themselves to the floor.

There was a pinprick of blame in his voice now. "Besides, where else do I have to go? I risked it all on you, Dexter." I felt an unusual twinge of guilt. "I have no one else to turn to. You didn't spare my life just to hand me over to the police did you?"

"Of course not, but…" I couldn't think of a reason. Of course I didn't want him to go to jail, but to have him stay here? With me? In the same apartment? The thought was mind boggling.

But, well…

What was family for?

I met his hollow gaze with my own. "Just until this all blows over."

His eyes shone in the full moon light. "Of course."

What had I gotten myself into?

~ O ~

My brother had graciously taken to the couch while I took my usual place at my bed. I had tried to get him to take my bed as a sort of peace offering for the attempt on his life, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"Think of it as my thanks for the accommodations." With that brotherly smile of his.

Then he'd flopped onto the couch without another word. I didn't see any point in continuing the argument so I followed suite.

With a quick shower and my teeth brushed, I jumped into bed, turned out the light and…

Stared up at my ceiling, wondering what the hell I was going to do now.

I had a mentally shook up sister holed up at the hospital, a serial killer brother crashing on my sofa, and on top of all that the police were on a frantic man hunt for my fellow monster. My life was just one picturesque walk in the park.

A little voice in the back of my head, that surprisingly wasn't the Dark Passenger's, whispered that I could just as easily cut one problem from my list by letting my brother get discovered. No one would ever know. It was like he said. He had nowhere left to run. He was napping contentedly on my couch. The police could be here in a matter of minutes. If I couldn't kill him I could just as easily-

My Dark Passenger and I squished these thoughts out of existence. I had grown fond of my brother in my own way, despite his lack of a Code and my Dark Passenger murmured with a certain carnivorous hum that it agreed.

I couldn't just drop my own brother into the lion's pit no matter how much of a commotion he had caused for me or how little sorry he was for the attempt on my sister's life. He was flesh and blood family after all and while I couldn't help him kill Deborah, I couldn't leave him to fend for himself. Of course I still had to have a little chat with him about his certain habits. Still, after all he'd done, he was still my brother. It was a simple fact that I couldn't ignore.

Though I could never bring myself to lead the police his way, there was still the small matter of Deborah coming home tomorrow. She couldn't very well stay here. No doubt there would be blood spatter on the walls if she found Brian napping on the couch. There was also the police investigation concerning the Ice Truck Killer. They weren't likely to look in my seaside abode for their murderer, but if someone did perchance see he that he was staying here, things could quickly careen out of my control. Everything seemed to be crushing me from all sides.

I sighed. Why did these things always have to happen to me?

I picked up my cell on the bedside table and made a phone call.

* * *

_This will follow close to the same plot as season 2, but with an alternate universe kind of edge to it. I always find Dexter and Brian's interactions fun __and satisfying to write. Feel free to call me if my characterization of them is off. This is my first Dexter fic so you'll have to forgive me._

_R&R! Thanks!_


	3. Coffee Black

_Finally finished! I'd like to thank my beta reader, KrisEleven, for the great editing she did on it. I couldn't have done it without her. Hopefully you'll enjoy it!_

* * *

Shiv Shank

Chapter 2: Coffee Black

Amazingly enough, I had the best night's sleep I'd had in a long time. No dreams, no midnight excursions, and no kidnapped foster sister about to be killed by a serial killer brother. Yes, all was calm and peaceful in the world. So much so that everything about last night had turned into one giant blur in my memory.

It was only when I got up, well rested and content, and found my brother in the kitchen pouring coffee did it all come crashing back to me.

"Coffee?" An amused grin etched across his face.

I raised an eyebrow and took the mug out of his outstretched hand. "This scenario seems familiar."

"Does it?" The glint in his eye told me otherwise.

I didn't quite know how to respond to his morning cheerfulness. This was a side of my brother that I'd only seen when he acting out Rudy. Even now, I didn't know how much of Rudy was fake and how much was real. I had thought that it had been part of the facade, but apparently my brother was indeed a morning person. Another similarity we shared.

"So, you headed to work today?" Small talk. Great.

I shook my head. "They gave me and Deb a few days off. To get over recent _traumatic events_."

He ignored my irritated use of the phrase.

"About your foster sister." His grin grew a tad bit more malicious.

I frowned. "What about her?"

"Won't you be picking her up from the hospital soon?"

My grip on the mug tightened. "I never mentioned that."

He waved a hand carelessly. "Relax, little brother. The hospital left a message." He took a casual sip of coffee. "They said you can pick up _Deborah_ any time." He didn't bother to keep thedistaste from his voice.

I eyed him suspiciously while taking a drink. "You aren't planning anything are you?"

Brian made a face of injured morality. "How could you insinuate such a malicious thing, dear brother?"

I glanced down into my mug, watching the little coffee left swirl around at the bottom of the cup. "Because I know who you are." I glanced up at him, my eyes half lidded. "_What _you are."

Brian's expression darkened, no longer at the mention of Deborah, but directed at me. Like a shark staring another down.

"But," he inched toward me, setting his mug on the counter as he went."You don't, Dexter. Not really. You only know a small part of me. The part that we share."

I could hear the chuckle of the Dark Passenger from the backseat and I knew exactly what he meant.

The smile was gone now, replaced by a deep, intense stare not unlike the look he had given me the night he had tried to kill Deb, when he realized that I had chosen my sister over him. A gaze filled with the cold, happy fury of the Dark Passenger. A glimpse of the monster within.

"In reality, little brother, you know less about me than I know about you."

This actually hurt my feelings, newly formed because it was true. I knew next to nothing about my brother and it made something writhe at the bottom of my stomach. For once I cursed the creation of these stupid_ emotions. _As always, that remarkable ability to make me _feel__. _It was amazing.

I held his fathomless gaze before breaking off and staring down at my coffee mug once more. He kept that stare for a moment longer until he also looked away.

The silence was deafening.

"So, what were you saying about Deb?" I couldn't stand the tension anymore.

He smiled again, bright and eager to rip someone's throat out. "Where shall she be staying? After all, don't you have to be a good fake brother and comfort her after her _horrific _ordeal?"

I could tell he wasn't at all sorry for what he put my sister through. She was, after all, the main reason I hadn't joined him in his killing spree.

"Uh, no." Eloquent as always. "Rita volunteered her place for about a week or so. Said something about me 'doing enough as it is'."

He relaxed. His smile doesn't seem quite so hungry anymore. "Good."

A hush fell between us once again. It spoke volumes about our estrangement. In a desperate attempt at distraction, I busied myself by opening up the fridge to grab the milk. He stood to the side, silently watching me pour myself a glass. I hadn't felt this awkward since I'd made my first kill. I paused and took a drink. I wondered what my brother's first kill was like. It made my heart clench in a way it had never done so before. My brother was right, I was in the dark about him in so many ways. But I didn't dare ask him. Not yet. I wasn't quite ready to start asking personal questions.

Instead I asked a far more logical one. "Why did you insist on staying with me, Brian?"

"To spend time with my favorite sibling of course." He seemed genuine this time.

I shook my head. "Besides that. There has to be another reason."

"Nothing, Dex. Is it so hard to believe I just want to bond with my only brother?" His tone was innocent enough, but something about the way he said it that made me twitch.

I didn't answer, still doubtful.

He picked up his mug again. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No." I looked away. "Of course not."

Yet another pause. This was becoming an all too common occurrence.

Then, he said something quite shocking. "You should probably go and pick up Deborah from the hospital."

My eyes widened, unsure if I had heard him right. "What?"

His expression was unreadable. "She needs you more than I do right now. We've got to make sure people aren't suspicious, right?"

Though his behavior was off putting, he made a valid point. After all she'd been through, any responsible brother would rush to his sister's side the first chance he got. If I didn't maintain my disguise, people would start suspecting something. I glanced at the clock. It was already half past nine. I had spent almost the entire morning arguing with my brother. I hadn't even eaten yet. I _could_ just pick up donuts on the way to the hospital.

I glanced back to him. "Are you sure?"

He looked like he wanted to say 'no', but surprisingly he didn't. "Of course. She is your _fake_ sister after all. You have to keep up the 'good big brother' disguise. We can talk when you get back."

I downed the last of my coffee, grabbed my car keys off the kitchen counter, and hurried for the exit. "I'm just going to drop Deb off at Rita's and I'll be back. Okay, Brian?"

He smiled and opened the door for me. "Have a nice time with your little girlfriend and your _fake_ sister."

I stopped and looked at him, something occurring to me. "What are you going to do here all by yourself?"

Brian pushed me outside. "I'll manage, baby brother. I have some business to attend to anyway. Now go and comfort your beloved _fake_ sister."

I heard alarm bells at the word _business. _Brian's idea of business was not the morally acceptable type. I opened my mouth to say something, but he beat me to the punch.

He rolled his eyes, guessing my thoughts. "It's nothing too gruesome, I assure you. Now _go_!"

He closed the door and locked it behind me, so I had no choice but to leave. His abruptness made me even more concerned, but I sighed and walked out to my car. My brother was smart. He could take care of himself. He wouldn't do anything stupid like killing someone while the police were still on his tail.

I just hoped he wouldn't get into _too _much trouble.

~o~

Brian waved to his brother cheerfully as he watched him drive out of the parking lot and on his way to his little girlfriend's house. When he saw the car disappearing from sight, he closed the curtains and settled into the chair in front of his brother's computer. Normally, he wouldn't be bothered by the fact that he was going through his brother's personal files, being the emotionless monster that he knew he was, but his brother had a curious effect on him.

_Feelings. _

They were what drove him to his brother in the first place. The usual emptiness filled by the mere mention of him. The actuality that he had a living, breathing, blood brother. And he was _just like him. _The thought gave him chills. Someone who had his own creature of dark fiddling around in his head. Someone who _understood._

But he hadn't let guilt stand in his way the last three times he'd broken into his brother's apartment, so he brushed these thoughts aside with relative ease. _  
_

For a serial killer, Dexter's place was ridiculously easy to break into. Especially his computer. Really, his brother should have come up with a better password than "Darkness".

Brian had always been the more creative of the two. While he had preferred to draw pictures, Dexter had played with toy cars. Their upbringings defined this. Improvisation was Brian's life. Living for sixteen years in a mental institution had created many scenarios in which he had to use his resourcefulness in order to survive. Once he had made it out of that horrible place, he found he could apply these skills in the real world. They definitely came in handy when he became the Ice Truck Killer, when his brother had refused his generously gift wrapped Tony Tucci, so ready and willing to die, in favor of his damn Code. Instead of giving up there and then, he had twisted it to his advantage. He used Tucci to get closer to Deborah in order to get closer to Dexter. Though his talents seemed to have failed him when he had attempted to kill Angel Batista, it also gave him the chance to set his final plan into motion. The Reunion.

Though that hadn't worked out so well either, but considering Dexter had spared his life and offered him a place to stay, he wouldn't count it as a complete failure. He preferred to think of it as a second chance.

Dexter had been taught a Code. A set of black and white rules. So blunt, so direct, that it left no room for gray. Dexter was a natural schemer. He planned everything beforehand, predicting every minute detail just has Harry had instructed him to. Saran wrap, duct tape, and a boat for dumping the bodies. They all served their purpose in a perfect ritual that made Dexter the uncatchable serial killer he was. It was almost enough to make Brian proud.

Almost.

But when something tipped the scales, Dexter was left floundering like a fish for air. He took no enjoyment in his kills. No creative wonder in his work. To him, killing was just filling the hunger. The only gratification he allowed himself were the blood slides he kept tucked away in a wooden box hidden inside his cooler. Dexter was imprisoned by the very Code that kept him free and it was Brian's duty as his big brother to open his cage.

But the first time, he had failed. His greatest mistake was that he had assumed that Dexter would automatically succumb to temptation once Brian had unveiled himself. That Dexter would choose flesh and blood over fake sibling bonds. He thought his brother would jump at the chance to be with someone who could actually understand him. Who saw behind his mask and wouldn't run.

He had been wrong.

Maybe it had been his choice of victim. Maybe it had been the loss of careful control over his emotions. Or maybe it had been the police interrupting at the last second. Whatever it was, his plan hadn't worked.

So, he'd tried again. If at first you don't succeed after all. If he couldn't free Dexter from Harry Morgan's brainwashing, he'd at least free him from his _fake_ sibling ties. Unfortunately, he had walked straight into a trap. Though, even with his brother's metal cord constricting his air pipe and unconsciousness dimming his vision, he couldn't feel more proud of his baby brother.

Though it had nearly broken him to see his brother choose that _faker _over him, he had been as equally shocked when Dexter, standing over him with knife at the ready, had not killed him in the end. He had every reason to. Brian had killed countless people, threatened his sister's life. He was a perfect fit for Dexter's precious Code. And yet his brother could not bring himself to do it.

"You're my brother," he'd said. He'd thought Dexter had renounced their blood ties the moment he let Deborah live. He'd concluded that Dexter was so far brainwashed by that bastard Harry Morgan that he'd kill his own brother to appease a dead man's morals.

Apparently he'd been mistaken about that too.

He frowned to himself as he browsed through file after file. Despite the fact that Dexter had spared his life, he was still conflicted. His damn Code still had a hold on him, but not so much that he'd kill Brian for it. He had even taken Brian in. Dexter knew the risks but he was willing to shelter his brother from the cold. It seemed family meant something to him after all.

But Deborah was still alive. Dexter couldn't help Brian kill her, but he didn't want his brother on death row. Dexter couldn't sacrifice one for another. The faker or Brian. He couldn't choose.

It gave Brian new hope.

This was his chance. He would play Dexter's game. Win his brother's trust with good behavior and brotherly understanding. He would bide his time, of course. Because Dexter had to slip up sooner or later. Brian grinned as he opened the folder he been searching for.

And when he did, Brian would be waiting with open arms, ready to welcome him into the dark.

* * *

_ I know the whole 'Brian turns Dexter evil' thing has been done before, but I'm trying to put my own twist to it. Once again, Read and Review please! Your input is always appreciated. =D _


	4. Happy Hour

_Here it is! Chapter 3. Its been a while mostly cause of the editing, but I couldn't have gotten it done without my beta reader KrisEleven! So props to her and enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

Shiv Shank

Chapter 3:

Happy Hour

I headed for the hospital like I'd planned, stopping briefly to snag a few donuts. The traffic was a feeding frenzy of honking cars and swearing drivers. I took a bite out of my glazed bear claw and listened to the obscenities that flew through the air. It made me think fondly of my hospitalized foster sister. I could practically hear her in the car with me, screaming along with the symphony of road rage. And soon enough she would be.

I parked just outside the hospital, got out of my car and made my way towards the waiting room, medical staff giving me smiles as I went. I returned them. These types of people were all too used to death. Fakeness came easy to them. Not unlike me, they could put on a mask, but unlike me, they did it out of compassion. I did it out of a need for secrecy. They healed people. I sent them to their deaths.

On a side note, I have always loved hospitals. I've visited these places for more than the usual doctor's appointment. My foster mother had been in and out before she died of cancer. Harry and my sister also had their share of visits since they were police officers and the job involved a certain degree of risk. Whenever I did come here, the pristine white walls and squeaky clean floors were always a comfort. The chill of air conditioned hallways was also somewhat relaxing. But what really drew me in was the operating room.

It may be my fascination with blood, but I have always admired the handiwork of surgeons. I find myself marveling at how they are so precise, so neat. Also, not unlike myself. It is remarkable the way they can use such nice, sharp tools so like my own and yet they use them to save lives instead of taking them. I played with the idea that I may have liked to be a surgeon if my dark urges didn't gnaw at me so, but they do so I brushed the thought aside and entered the waiting room.

Deb was waiting for me, seated in one of the chairs, hands tightly gripped in her lap with her head down.

"You okay, sis?" I put a concerned hand on her shoulder.

She jumped slightly at the sound of my voice. She seemed to be still shaken from the events of last night. No one could blame her. She'd been strangled, bound, gagged, drugged, and almost killed. And the guy who'd done all of it to her was still out there, free.

If I could feel guilt, I would have. After all, I was the one Brian had wanted. She was just bait, so that I would come to him. Also the fact that her almost-killer was crashing on my couch.

"Dexter." Her voice was so full of emotion that I wondered if I had the wrong person.

Before I could say so much as a 'hello', she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me as if doing so was the one thing keeping her breaking down entirely. Deb may have a slender frame and a nice face, but she wasn't a cop because of her looks. It felt as if she was trying to squeeze my organs up and out of my body.

I hugged her back, trying not to wheeze. "Are you okay?"

She sniffed, an uncharacteristic sound coming from her. "Fine."

We stayed like that for I don't know how long. My ribs began to creak from the strain.

"Uh, Deb?" I patted her shoulder at some attempt at comfort. "You're crushing my lungs."

She laughed. "Deal with it, bro." She squeezed harder and I thought I was going to see this morning's breakfast.

To my relief, she finally let me go.

"Damn, I'm glad you're here." She emphasized her enthusiasm with a punch to my arm.

That's my sister; swearing and hurting me already.

I groaned melodramatically, rubbing my arm. "You have a very painful way of showing it."

Deb gave me a wide smile, something I had not seen since she heard about Brian's so-called proposal. It was a welcome sight. I managed a real smile in return, a rare occurrence for me as well.

A nurse came up to us, interrupting our family moment. "Dexter Morgan?"

She was holding a clipboard, looking at me with a pen in her hand and blank expression on her face.

I gave her my best dazzling smile.

My charm was lost on her. She shoved the clipboard and pen into my hand. "Please fill out the following paperwork before you leave."

I kept the smile plastered to my face even as she walked away. I turned back to Deborah to see she was scowling.

"Now do you see why I need to get the fuck out of here? The nurses here are like fucking zombies. The doctors aren't much better. Not to mention the smell." She pinched her nose. "Like being suffocated by Lysol."

"It's called cleanliness, Deb." I scribbled down random bits of information on the form given to me. "You can actually see their floor. Unlike yours."

She punched my arm again. "Fuck you, Mr. Neat Freak. Just because you have to be an OCD perfectionist doesn't mean the rest of us have to."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

I was not insulted by the remark. I took pride in being a very neat monster. It was what Harry had explicitly taught me to be.

The thought of Harry made my stomach twist. I ignored it and smiled at my sister.

She snorted. "You would."

I finished off the last of the forms and passed it to the front desk as we walked out of the building.

Deb was unusually quiet on our way out to my car. She didn't talk until we were strapped in our seats and I had put the key into the ignition.

She turned to me with smile. "Thanks, Dex, for everything. I mean it. I'm glad I have you for a brother." The goofy look on her face faded and she frowned once more. "But if you tell anyone I said that I'll kill you got it?" She held up her fist playfully.

I winced. "Like anyone would believe me if I told them."

We both smiled again and I almost felt something. Something like love, but not. I almost grasped it, but it slipped from my fingers as quickly as it came.

I tried to shake it off and addressed my sister. "Rita will be glad to see you're okay."

Deb frowned. "Are you sure she's okay with this?"

"She's the one who insisted on it. She says she's happy to let you stay there until you can get back on your feet."

Deb glanced out the window. "No offense to Rita, but why can't I stay at your place?"

I had expected this, but I still wish she hadn't asked. "Its safer at Rita's. _He _doesn't know where she lives. He knows where I live. Plus, he won't expect you to be at Rita's. You'll be altogether safer there."

"What about you? You were you the one that stopped him from fuckin' killing me in the first place." She glanced back at me. "You sure he won't want revenge?"

Since he was staying at my place, no. But Deb didn't need to know that.

"You're more important. You're the one he tried to kidnap, not me. He might try it again. You're the department's main priority right now."

She scowled. "Fuck them. You're just as important. Besides, their top priority should be bringing this motherfucker in, not babysitting me."

"It's just for a little while. A month at the most. Just until they can catch Rudy-" Oops. And I had tried so hard not to mention it too.

I glanced across at her.

Deb stared at the floor. "I-it's okay, Dex." I hadn't heard her voice shake like that since our father died. "I'm okay."

She was anything but okay. It was clear from the rare tears spilling from her eyes. I opened my mouth to protest, but she stopped me with a hand.

"Just…" She took a deep breath. Always the brave cop. So much like Harry.

"Just catch this son of a bitch once and for all, okay? Can you promise me that?"

I couldn't respond. My brain was too numb from the torrent of conflicting thoughts raging through my head. Once again fate had to make me decide. Deb or Brian. Foster sister or blood brother. Lie or truth. I couldn't choose. I was fond of both of them, but in different ways. It may be selfish of me, but I wish I could just have both.

I decided to lie. "I promise, Deb." It was for her own good.

To lighten the mood, I grabbed the box of donuts from the back seat and handed it to her. "Breakfast? Just leave me a bear claw."

It seemed to console her as she wiped away her tears on her sleeve and laughed, grabbing a maple bar from the box. I grinned.

We stayed in thoughtful silence the rest of the way to Rita's, stopping for coffee on the way. One for me and Rita. Deb stated she couldn't even look at coffee after that gruel she had tasted at the hospital.

We got to Rita's smoothly. Not even one honked horn, a rare feat in Miami. She was taking out the trash when we walked in.

"Decaf mochachino. Non fat, no whip. Your favorite." I handed her the coffee with a smile.

She gasped and threw her arms around me with relief. "Dexter, Deb. Thank God you're both okay."

She released me and hugged Deb instead. "Are you all right?"

My sister seemed a bit surprised, but returned it. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She held Deb out at arm's length. "You poor thing. You've been through so much."

Deborah smiled. "Really, Rita. I'm doing okay. I'm just sorry for imposing."

Rita was all cheer and soft smiles. "It's my pleasure. You and Dexter have helped me so much. I just want to return the favor."

The kids came bounding into the living room and tackled me to the floor. "Dexter!"

"Hey!" I hugged them. "How are my favorite munchkins doing?"

Astor spoke first. "We're fine."

"We're playing ninjas!" Cody giggled while still attached to my leg.

I gestured to Deb. "Hey, why don't you go play with my sister Deb? She's a secret agent ninja."

Deb rolled her eyes.

Cody stared up at her in amazement. "Really? Do you know any ninja moves?"

Deb smiled down at him. "Tons."

Cody grinned. "Can you teach us?"

She winked at me. "Sure. Come over here and I'll show you."

She took his hand, and led them into the living room, leaving me and Rita finally alone.

You wouldn't peg Deb as a person who liked kids from her normally rough and tumble personality, but she had a certain maternal instinct deep down.

I turned to Rita. "I really am grateful for you doing this." I sipped my coffee. White chocolate mocha, as always.

She glanced over to where Deb, Cody and Aster were practicing their martial arts. "She's brave. The way she maintains her calm after all that's happened."

"Deb's strong. Like her father. Like my foster father." My _lying_ foster father.

Rita glanced back at me. "You too. Are you sure you're okay?"

I took her hand in mine. "I'm fine, Rita"

Rita clenched my hand. "You could stay here too, Dexter. There's enough room for both of you. It's like you said on the phone, it's too dangerous at your apartment right now."

I shook my head. "I'll be fine. I just need more time with you." I brushed some hair out of her face. "And the kids."

She smiled. "I just wish that psychopath wasn't out there. Makes me worry about you."

"The Ice Truck Killer's after Deb, not me. The police are right on his tail. I'm sure they'll find him soon." Another lie. I was doing that a lot lately.

"I hope you're right, Dexter."

I left Deb in the care of Rita and the kids. I told her I'd come by tomorrow and drop off some clothes from her apartment. She told me to be "fucking careful", thankfully not in front of the kids, and hugged me goodbye. The kids hugged me as well. Rita walked me out. I stopped on the front step and turned to her.

"Next time, tell me when something's happening, all right?" She nervously adjusted my collar. "You don't answer my calls." She smiled up at me. "I get worried."

"Of course." I kissed her forehead and waved goodbye.

As I walked out to my car, a brief fluttering of wings rustled in the shell of my ear. A soft whisper from the Dark Passenger was all that was needed to send me on high alert. I glanced silently around, trying to find the source.

And I did, unfortunately.

There, only a few feet away, was a maroon Ford Taurus and nestled comfortably in the driver's seat was tall, black, heavily muscled middle aged male with two piercing grey eyes drilling straight into mine.

Doakes.

He smiled at me. It was not a happy smile, but a dark one. A mirror image of my predator's one.

I frowned. The incident with my brother had aroused his suspicions at last. My devil had danced with his demon but the fiddler's tune was far from over. I could only imagine the look on his face if he found out that his missing murderer was my only living blood relation. Or the fact that he was using my apartment as his new base of operations. I couldn't decide whether it would be glee that he was right or horror that not only were his suspicions were confirmed, but that the Ice Truck Killer and I were related.

I decided not to find out, so I took a deep breath and drove home, thoughts of my new stalker dancing in my head.

~o~

I closed the door to my apartment and leaned against it, exhausted. My heart was still pounding in my from the run in with Doakes. He had followed me all the way home, just as I'd expected, but it didn't keep my heart rate from skyrocketing. I couldn't try to lose him, lest I stir up more of his paranoid fanaticism. The irony of it, instead of doing the stalking, I was the one being stalked. If this kept up, I wouldn't be able to have a second to myself. It made me wish he was a fit for Harry's Code. Then I could strap him to the table, my knife in hand. And with a flash of silver and neat slice-

"What's wrong?" I had almost forgotten about Brian.

I eyed my brother from my place at the door. He was sitting in my arm chair again, flipping through some files he must have gotten from my desk. It made me uneasy since the only files I keep in there are those of potential victims. It was a bit embarrassing, like being caught with Playboy magazines under your bed. He had that sort of smile too, like he had been waiting all day for my reaction. But I wasn't in the mood for games. It was so unlike me, but between Deb's safety, Doakes shadowing me, and my brother's temptations, my head was about to explode.

Therefore, my tone of voice was a bit harsher than I intended. "What do you think?"

"I think." He seemed amused by my irritation. "Someone followed you."

I blinked.

He chuckled. "Its written all over your face, little brother." He looked up at me.

I flopped on the couch adjacent to him. "Is it that obvious?"

He just smiled that almost smug smile. I gazed silently at the ceiling for almost a minute before he spoke again.

"So who was it?"

"Doakes." The name left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"The police officer that hates your guts?" I wasn't about to ask how he knew that.

"With unyielding obsession."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Does he know?"

He meant about my little playtime escapades.

"I always gave him 'the creeps'. The Ice Truck Killer case just affirmed his suspicions." The last few words were said with a hard undertone.

My brother was silent, but I could see he felt genuinely bad about it. _Feelings_ again. My glare softened.

I decided to drop the accusations. "How am I going to kill anyone with Doakes on my back?"

It was amazing how comfortable Brian's presence could make me. For once, I could voice my doubts to someone without worrying that they'd call the police.

He paused, his dark eyes boring into mine. He placed the file on the table and leaned towards me with an air of absolute seriousness. "There is an easier way of ridding yourself of the problem, Dex."

I stiffened, aware that the last time we had breached this subject, I had almost chopped my sister into bloodless pieces. I had to be careful here. I sometimes forgot just how persuasive my brother could be.

My voice was guarded. "You know I can't do that."

His voice was pleasant, but his shadow snickered. "Then I guess you have to put up with it for a while."

He was mocking me, dangling a piece of meat in front of my eyes that he knew I couldn't eat.

I grit my teeth, but wouldn't give in. "That's the only other option? To wait?"

I knew what he was going to say, but I couldn't help but ask it.

His smile widened. "Your decision, Dex."

I knew it.

Silence. I was beginning to hate silence.

Then, my brother gave a soft chuckle and gestured to a six pack that I had just noticed sitting on the table between us. "On the bright side, little brother, I got some beer out to celebrate."

And just like that, the tension lifted from the room. I felt my nerves settle a little.

I raised an eyebrow. "Celebrate what?"

He smiled and it was real this time. "Our brotherly reunion of course!"

My mouth curved upwards in a return. Doakes could wait. For now. "...Pass one over here."

* * *

_This chapter was a bit hard to write since there's been a pretty big gap since the last time I updated and I'm a bit rusty when it comes to characterizing Dexter and Brian. I'm not quite sure how I feel about how it came out. But Brian, as always, was fun to write so I guess it wasn't all bad. Thanks for reading and reviews are always appreciated! _


	5. Hackles Rise

_I know it's been a while since I've updated. The annoying thing is that I've had this chapter almost done for a long time, I just never got around to finishing it up until recently. But it's a little longer than usual, so hopefully that makes up for the delay. _

_A thank you to my beta reader, TrenchcoatsAreSexy, for editing.  
_

_**Warning: There is off screen, harm to animals in this chapter. **  
_

* * *

Chapter 4: Hackles Rise

It had been thirty eight days sixteen hours, and twelve minutes since my brother's attempt on my sister's life. More than four weeks that he had been staying under my roof.

And he was driving me_ insane_.

While I am not known to exhibit emotions such as irritation or anger, I would gladly make an exception for my beloved,_ infuriating _sibling. Don't get me wrong, I'm quite fond of my brother's homicidal tendencies. His beautifully crafted, perfectly blood drained corpses are what brought us together, after all.

It's just that he has certain... _habits_.

It first started when I finally got the call to get back to work on Monday, two days after I gained a roommate. Deb, understandably, had to a wait a bit longer, as she was currently Brian's suspected target to be. As she was one of his only victims that got away, the police had assumed that he'd come back and finish the job, so they'd assigned a security detail to follow her despite her refusal and adamant claim that she could take care of herself.

I agreed with Deb, but for different reasons. I knew that the security detail wouldn't catch my brother within a hundred feet of my little sister. He knew he'd get on my bad side very quickly if he just up and killed her. My brotherhood was too important to him to just throw away like that. No, if he wanted her dead, she would be chopped up by now. The fact that she was even still alive said that he was capable of at least a little self-control.

My first week back on the job were pretty uneventful. With the police's attention focused on protecting my sister and no new leads on the whereabouts of the Ice Truck Killer, I returned home each day in a relatively relaxed state of mind.

It was only when I got home that my mind began to unravel at the seams.

Since I started going back to work and I couldn't take him with me, my brother was left by himself in my apartment. We had decided that he couldn't go anywhere by himself until the search had cooled down.

All alone. For hours on end. With nothing to do.

This is not a good combination_. _Especially for a serial killer.

It was also dangerous because my brother was not like me. He was used to satisfying his Dark Passenger on a whim. All he had to do was call in a hooker, knock her unconscious, drain the body, and cut up the pieces. Safe, simple, and, most of all, quick. The only victims of his I could count that weren't hookers, were Tony Tucci, Rudy Cooper (the plumber), and my sister. He didn't have to stalk and observe the way I did with my victims. Without a Code, he had a way of appeasing the Need without the long, complicated process of deeming them worthy of the kill.

And did the thought give me an uncharacteristic surge of jealousy? Of course not.

Maybe.

The point was that my brother wasn't used to going a long period of time without killing someone. So, it came as no surprise to find that my brother, bereft of his usual _extracurricular _activities, had taken to other outlets to keep his dark urges at bay. Unfortunately, I underestimated the lengths he'd go to stave off the boredom.

Every day, I would come home from work and find him doing something new. Listening to classical music on the radio, going through my slides (for the thousandth time), re-alphabetizing my book shelves, building a tower of playing cards. I even caught him watching _Xena_ reruns on the Oxygen channel. To which, when he caught the curious look on my face, had shrugged and said, "What's not to like about hot women in leather with pointy objects?"

I'd asked if he thought about chopping them up into nice, bloodless pieces with those objects.

He'd just smirked, the dark hunger gleaming behind his eyes, and I saw that no matter what he did, his urges would only truly be slaked by one thing.

This went on for several days. The hunger in his eyes becoming more defined as they went by. After all, the Need could only be held back for so long and I'm sure he was counting down the days since his last kill, just as I was. Already my own Dark Passenger was howling at the moon, salivating for the next piece of meat on my table. Unfortunately, the one thing that would quench both our thirsts was too dangerous to practice at the moment without raising suspicions. Especially with the police using every available resource to track down The Ice Truck Killer and Doakes tailing me from dawn to dusk.

It was that same rising hunger and the inability to fill it that spurned a different kind of emotion. It was the tension that came from having two hungry predators sharing one space that made something in both of us snap.

~ O ~

Opening the door was my first mistake.

The second was not covering my mouth.

A rush of air freshener, so strong that I could have sworn it singed my eyebrows, came wafting into my lungs. I coughed and gagged a bit before I could safely cover my mouth and nose, carefully making my way into the danger zone. My eyes started to water before I shut the door behind me. I quickly headed toward the windows and slammed both of them open, letting the overwhelming scent rise up and out of my apartment. I let out a sigh of relief when the lemony freshness had left the room. Then, I turned to see what the damage was.

My third mistake.

The first thing I noticed was the cleanliness. It was even cleaner than I usually kept it (And I have been told on numerous occasions that I am nothing short of a "neat freak"), and seemed to sparkle in the daylight. Dusted and disinfected, like someone had spent hours meticulously scrubbing away every inch of grime out of existence. The second thing I saw was Brian, standing in the center of all of it and looking at me like he'd been caught doing the dark deed right there in the living room.

"Brian, what are you doing?"

He muffled a reply that I couldn't understand due to the paper mask across his mouth. He raised a rubber gloved hand and pulled it down to speak clearly. "What?"

I gestured to the general area of the room. "This. Did you spend your entire day cleaning?"

Brian shrugged as if the idea of my brother, _The Ice Truck Killer_, currently the most dangerous serial killer in all of Miami, besides myself, and the top of Miami Metro's hit list, purging my apartment of dirt and decked out in rubber wasn't the most ludicrous sight I'd ever seen.

"I was bored."

Well, now I knew what would happen if you trapped a serial killer in an apartment for days on end with nothing to do.

He'd go on a cleaning binge.

"So you felt the need for a little spring cleaning? Brian, the curtains were wide open. " My voice went low. "What if someone had seen you?"

"I'm being careful. I always am, Dex, you should know that better than anyone." And he was right, I should have known better.

As the Ice Truck Killer, he had successfully evaded the police for months while, at the same time, leaving me clues to follow, dating my sister, and keeping up his career as a prosthetist . I remembered his bloodless bodies; cold, clean, and careful. I recalled my absolute awe at his tidiness. No prints left anywhere, at any crime scene save for that one partial print the police discovered on a discarded lozenge wrapper. Even then, there was no record of him at all in the database, not even a parking ticket. It had taken Angel Batista's lucky idea of checking mental institution records for them to close in on my brother. Even then, when they had stormed into our mother's old house, seemingly pinning him down, he had escaped underground through a pre-planned escape route. The man knew how to cover his bases. And all this he had done without my help.

Now I felt a bit silly thinking my big brother couldn't take care of himself, but I couldn't help the flutter of relief when I realized he wasn't in any danger.

Even sociopaths have bad days, but by taking my brother in, it seemed as if my normal routine had dropped into chaos. My calm, orderly ways seemed to have abandoned me in light of this addition to my life. It was textbook for sociopaths to be habit forming creatures and I was no exception. This new element threw me off balance. Even after weeks of living in close quarters, I was still unsure how to deal with my brother. The fact that I didn't know the first thing about him, besides what he had already told me back at our mother's house, didn't help.

This also made it hard to keep my masks in place. Foster brother to Deb, boyfriend to Rita, blood spatter analyst for the Miami Metro Police Department, serial killer, and now blood brother to my long lost sibling, Rudy Cooper aka Brian Moser? I didn't know where the mask started and my real identity began. There were too many variables to juggle all at once. That, mixed with the deafening roar of hunger from the Dark Passenger, was driving me to the very limits of my patience.

He must have seen some of the stress on my face because he tilted his head slightly in an expression that, if I didn't know who and what he was, I would have mistaken for sympathy.

"Dexter, what's wrong? You look distressed."

Was it distress? This slithering of snakes through my thoughts? The searing pain that was threating to tear open my skull? It was a sensation I had only experienced twice before. When Harry had first figured out my little _problem_. When I realized that I was stuck with it forever.

"I didn't mean to worry you, little brother." The sound of Brian's voice brought me out of my thoughts. "I know this arrangement has had its toll on the both of us."

His tone was off somehow. It was too soft, barely above a whisper. I glanced up at him. Carefully crafted concern that only a fellow monster could see through. His position had changed as well. He had moved a few steps closer during my brief moment of inner turmoil and now we stood only inches apart.

"We've both been restless lately, haven't we?" His eyes narrowed and must have found something in mine that acted as confirmation. "I thought so."

The Dark Passenger was rustling its wings. Not a good sign as to where this was going.

"I know we agreed to be careful, but its been such a long time being cooped up in an apartment without any fresh air. It's not healthy. I've been so bored, Dex," He quirked a small, dark smile, "And so _very _hungry."

Sometimes I resented my brother's habit of dancing around the subject. He had a flair for the dramatic, an actor on a stage. Conversations with him were as if our little game of "Follow the Leader" was still in play, but with words instead of blood. And, with the hunger itching under my skin and the stress of keeping my life in check, I was more than a little impatient for him to get to the point.

"What do you want me to do, Brian? You know I can't let you go out by yourself just yet, not with the police still on high alert."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of doing it alone." He flicked his gaze over to a long, black bag that I just noticed set out on the kitchen counter.

Well, he had been busy, hadn't he? I wonder how long it had taken him to pick the lock; even longer to figure out there was a secret compartment to the trunk. I'm pretty sure he hadn't known where I stored my tools, even on the occasions where he had broken into my apartment. I had made sure they were too well hidden for anyone to just come upon them. Because if dull, drab Dexter was found with a closet full of shiny, dangerous toys, who knows what kinds of questions that would raise? Especially from my foul mouthed foster sister, who certainly didn't need any more earth-shattering revelations damaging her psyche.

I glanced at him. He looked at me. The only sound was the low hum of the AC.

"I can't."

He let out a long suffering sigh. "The Code."

I nodded stiffly, immovably. "The Code."

Brian's eyes sharpened, abandoning all innocent pretenses. "I'd be willing to accommodate."

The moon looked on through the open window, singing symphonies and crooning choruses. The shadows danced beneath our feet, cackling vehemently as my last defense was stripped away.

His expression was shamelessly gleeful. "You have no excuses, Dexter."

The Dark Passenger coiled its claws around my control.

"Doesn't it burn, Dex? The emptiness? The starvation?"

The rumble of the monster's empty stomach echoed in my ears, reminding me just how long I had been waiting.

"Come on, little brother. We can do it your way. We can kill whoever you want, however you want. Just _choose_."

My unbreakable resolve cracked. Harry shook his head behind my brother in warning. Follow the Code, Dexter. Don't break the Code, Dexter. The Code is your life, Dexter.

I ignored him. This was his fault for lying to me in the first place. His fault for taking one little boy from a shipping container, but throwing the other to the dogs. Besides, there wasn't anything in the Code against bringing your serial killer brother along for the ride.

It's my life, Harry.

"Alright."

The steering wheel spun out of my hands as the Dark Passenger careened out of control.

Brian grinned wickedly. Harry frowned reprovingly.

~ O ~

Over the next week and a half, we split the workload of researching potential victims between us. I told my brother that if we were going to do this my way, we were going to do it the right way. My brother didn't seem to mind, so desperate was he for the sight of blood. In the end, as long as there was a corpse on the table, both of us were in agreement.

While my brother hacked into the police database from my apartment, I looked through what records I could from my lab. My coworkers didn't seem to find it suspicious. All they saw was a determined big brother trying his best to catch the son of a bitch that had dared to hurt his little sister, while I was entertaining thoughts of blood slides and silvery incisions in my head as I skimmed through killer after killer. Though it was a good cover, I found that it couldn't excuse my longer than usual hours forever.

I found the perfect opportunity to carve a better mask when Angel Batista approached me one day after work.

"You've gotta get out more, compadre." Angel had put a hand on my shoulder; his face screwed up into a sympathetic smile. "We all want to catch him, Dex, and what he did to your sister was unforgivable, but this obsessing, it's gonna to drive you into the ground."

I smiled slightly, the ever worried big brother. "Thanks, Angel, but it helps take my mind off of things. Really, I need the distraction."

"Tell you what, Dex. If you need a distraction, join the department's bowling team. We've been down a member ever since Anderson got shot in the leg in the line of duty. We could really use another bowler."

So, I had agreed. After all, what harm could it do if it helped me keep the illusion from falling apart?

And I found, to my amazement, that I was actually good at it. All the bowling balls and trophies at Joseph Driscoll's house were starting to add up now.

When I told Brian, he laughed. "I guess murder's not the only thing that runs in the family."

This became my standard excuse to Rita and the kids for any later than usual hours. Hours really spent pouring over potential victims and kill scenarios with my brother.

But this cycle could not last forever.

~ O ~

Our first hitch since that night at 1235 Mangrove Drive came just as predicted but somehow it still managed to blindside me. It was so obvious and I should have seen it coming, but the most obvious things are the ones we never look for, aren't they?

"I've found him."

His smile held a good helping of glee with a light but sharp sprinkle of hunger.

Oh, that's who.

I set the paper down and gave him my full attention. My throat went suddenly dry. "Which one?"

His footsteps seemed to be deliberately heavy and the file he handed me had more force than was necessary.

"Days of researching. I finally found the perfect one." He almost giggled .

"Just spit it out, Brian."

He frowned, but continued. "Jimmy Sensio, also known as "The man with God in his mouth"." I raised an eyebrow. He held a hand for further explanation. "He's a Voodoo high priest hired to perform "death curses" on people."

I snorted. He laughed.

"That was my reaction. Turns out, he really kills them by selling them drinks poisoned with ricin."

"Proof?" I skimmed the file slowly.

He grit his teeth. "I swear, it's like you don't trust me, little brother."

"_Proof?_" I repeated, eyes narrowed up at him.

He sighed. "I tracked a particular client of his. Apparently the deal went wrong and Jimmy decided to seek other employment."

"By getting rid of his current one?" Easy guess.

"Exactly. I snuck in one night while Jimmy was out and took a peek into his back room. Found the body and looked it over before he could get rid of it. That solution I had you run at the lab? The one that came up, containing ricin? Proof." He smiled, pleased beyond all belief.

I continued to skim over the file. Until I saw one detail that made me stop.

"He's blind."

Brian's smile dropped. "So?"

"I'm not sure if it's such a good idea."

"Oh no-"

"Especially with the police still out there."

"Don't you dare-"

"Maybe we should wait a few days."

Suddenly, Brian's face was inches from mine. "A few _days_?"

I glared right back. "You've waited a few weeks. What's a couple more days?"

His eyes narrowed. "Hunger doesn't wait, little brother. I can't slice a fucking apple without feeling it. I need this, Dex." His voice broke and my eyes widened at the touch of almost emotion. "I _need_ this."

The pleading in my brother's voice weighed itself against the threat of discovery.

Discovery won.

"I'm sorry, Brian. I can't. Not yet."

The slam of his door practically shook the foundation of the apartment. I sighed.

This was going to a long couple of days.

~ O ~

From there, it just got worse. I could tell just by watching him. It was already the third week of the Ice Truck Killer investigation. In the mornings, he was sullen, only speaking to me when he needed food, and not even bidding me good bye when I left for work like he normally did. In the evenings, he'd just sit in front of the TV, eyes glazed over and barely moving. This went on for three days.

To be honest, it scared me.

Wanting to kill people? Perfectly reasonable for a sociopath. But complete lack of it? That was disturbing.

Then, on the third night, it reached the breaking point.

I came home, expecting to see him slumped in front of the TV as he had two nights previous. Instead, I found him cooking dinner. What was a normal everyday activity to humans, my brother had made ten times more threatening just by holding a knife and chopping up some meat.

He smiled at me when I walked in the door. One of his canine grins that gave me a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Hey, little brother. Hungry?"

I returned the grin, trying not to show my unease at the blade glinting dangerously in his hand. "What are you making?"

His eyes flashed. "Meatloaf surprise."

I spoke slowly, eyeing the meat. "What's in it?"

He examined the knife in his grip. "That would ruin the surprise."

Wasn't much of a surprise. I had seen my neighbor from the apartment next door looking for her lost, and now never to be found, dog.

I set my work bag on the couch. "So that's why Mary's looking for her dog."

Brian frowned. "Annoying mutt anyway. Always barking. Never shut up."

I shook my head. "What happened to keeping a low profile? She could have seen you. All for what? A cheap thrill?"

He admired his reflection in the metal for a minute before looking sideways at me.

He showed me his teeth. "Worth it."

He was beyond reason now, I could tell. At this point, all he wanted to do was set the world on fire and watch it burn. I knew this would happen. Had to happen. I overestimated his self-control. I thought he could wait just a little while longer while I scanned through potential suspects. That self-preservation would kick in before he would snap.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

I watched him chop the dog meat into neat pieces with a tight frown. I wondered if the blood upset him since he was used to draining the body first before the eventual sectioning. Spatter covered my sink in a thick coat of red. That was going to take a lot of bleach to clean out.

"I'm not eating that." Serial killer I may be, but dog eater I am not.

He looked up at me. "In some countries, dog is considered a delicacy."

I gave him a look.

He laughed again. "Ease up, Dex. There's some steaks and beer in the fridge. You just need to heat it up. You didn't honestly think I'd eat dog meat, did you? It's not exactly to my tastes."

I chose not to comment on what exactly was to his tastes did what he said and took out the food, heating up the steaks in the microwave. Then, I turned to him with the full intention of some kind of lecture in mind. He looked back at me with an expectant, but amused smile. The kind that made my throat go dry and the words freeze on my tongue. What could I possibly say that would get through to him? I had overlooked one very clear and important fact.

He wasn't me.

It was the one thing that separated us. The Code. He didn't have a Code to filter the hunger. To bring it under control. He took what he wanted, when he wanted. The Need was too much for him, consuming all other thoughts.

We stood, facing each other for a few seconds. Dead eyes to dead eyes. I could see the remnants of his last kill, though smaller than his usual preferences, flickering in his eyes. Not a hint of guilt in his expression. A true sociopath in every way. As I looked into his dark gaze, I could imagine what it was like. Hungering for weeks without so much as a chopped limb to keep him occupied. To hear that bark outside the apartment window and feel the bloodlust flowing through his veins. A starving wolf coming upon a baby deer. His Dark Passenger crooning juicy, crimson thoughts in his ear. The eventual snap.

Did I know how he felt?

That all-consuming desire when I had heard our neighbor's dog, Buddy, barking when my foster mother was still sick with cancer and couldn't sleep. Back before the Need was controlled by the Code. How satisfying and logical it would be to just snuff out its life. How very easy it was to give into my Dark Passenger without a second thought. The thrill of being able to cut something open after years of playing it out in my head. The wonderful sensation of feeling something, _finally_, after so many years of being empty.

Yes, I knew exactly how he felt.

And it brought me to a decision.

After we ate, an expectant but comfortable silence between us, I went to my bedroom closet. I could feel Brian's eyes on me all the way there. Because we both knew I only kept one kind of thing in there. I brought out a long, black bag. The same bag that he begged me to open two weeks ago.

I could hear his intake of breath.

I turned to him. His eyes were wide. I felt a small surge of pride that this time, I was the one to throw the great Ice Truck Killer off balance.

His eyes went from me to the bag and back. His jaw was clenched, his eyes darker. "You mean…?"

We smiled. "Tonight's the night."


End file.
